


Setteveli

by Stria (Asia117)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (at least i tried to do it lmao), (or at least in the spectrum), Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Chef Harry, Magical Realism, Multi, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, a lot of pastry talking, cis girl niall, read the notes pls <3, they both work in a pastry shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:05:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5488133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asia117/pseuds/Stria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Louis had heard them all, from the wings that came out of the hump of that Jewish shoemaker in Italy, to the spirit haunting that dude in Latinoamerica.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or, the one where Louis has a bit of an invisibility problem, Harry just wants to work at <i>All or Muffin</i>, and nobody is straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Setteveli

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kikikryslee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikikryslee/gifts).



> Okay so. Thanks a whole lot to the amazing Grace (tee hee hee) aka [achilleus](http://achilleus.tumblr.com/) on tumblr aka [MiniMangaFan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniMangaFan/pseuds/MiniMangaFan) on AO3, because she offered to beta this and she puts up with me and encourages me and she's a great person in general.  
> I also have to thank [Fede](http://http://hypervioletpixie.tumblr.com/) for being amazing and knowledgeable about magical realism and telling me what did I have to do not to write a fantasy... I hope it worked!  
> And thanks to [Camille](http://ernestine-scatterbrain.tumblr.com/), [R](http://eyesclosednocontrol.tumblr.com) and [Tink](http://sky-reid.tumblr.com) for letting me use them as Niall, Zeina and Liam. R in particular was amazing for her suggestions about Zeina's faith and her being desi, so ♡
> 
> Louis is asexual, and I know this is not the standard portrait of asexuality, but it's the way I live my asexuality, so I thought it was better to stick to what I knew to evoid getting things wrong.  
> As for the "aro spectrum part", Harry is Lith/Akoiro. I had a few akoiro people explaining to me what it meant and things about the possible romance repulsion. If I got something wrong, just tell me :D
> 
> kikikryslee, I had so much fun writing this prompt! I hope you can enjoy it and that it was what you wanted!

If there's one thing Louis was sure about, it’s that his life hadn’t always been like that.

He couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment where everything began. He could recall the period, of course, but it was also a period where everything kind of… blended together; nights spent doing homework after putting his sisters to bed, and trying to learn how to balance chores and social life and teach at least Lottie how to clean simple things so he wouldn’t have to do everything, and a voice on the back of his head telling him to _man up, you’re the reason dad’s gone. Act like a man!_

Of course, at the ripe age of 28 Louis knew better than to listen to voices like that, but still, evidently It did some damage along the way, because now every time he started feeling so much he just… disappeared, as in he literally turned invisible. If he didn’t feel too much he just became kind of translucent, and it was still something he could work with, but the problem was when he got overwhelmed, or really angry, or when he had a crush on someone. He could usually sense it coming, and make up an excuse and go hide, but sometimes it came suddenly, and he just had the time to go running away in the nearest bathroom, leaving his interlocutor bemused at best.

And he _knew_ he wasn’t the only one person with this kind of problem. There were stories, and Louis had heard them all, from the wings that came out of the hump of that Jewish shoemaker in Italy, to the spirit haunting that dude in Latinoamerica. It wasn’t supposed to be weird, but still. He didn’t really feel comfortable in sharing it with strangers.

It was different with friends; Zeina had known him since they were in reception and her parents were still convinced she was a boy, Liam had come to them in high school, and then Niall, Zeina’s long term girlfriend. They were a great little family.

And of course there was Jude too. Jude was amazing. They met on one of the rare evenings Louis could go out with the others, and Jude was bartending at the pub they went to, a little quaint thing just at the border of Salisbury city centre. He spent the evening laughing at his jokes (he also spent the evening making frequent bathroom trips but that’s neither here nor there). They’ve been together for four months, and Louis knows he had to tell Jude about the invisibility problem, at their weekly dinner date. Probably. Definitely. Maybe.

 

 

_so we’re okay for the chillout at 7pm?_

Louis stared at the phone, typing out a fast reply before getting to work on the puffs again. Being the only person in the laboratory was tiring, and he could barely get a moment to catch a breath in 11 hours of work.

Hiding away in a pastry laboratory had always been his dream since he was 12, and his mother luckily managed to get him to train with a friend of her when he was 14. He got his diploma in London and then came to Salisbury to open a little bakery slash pastry shop ( _All or Muffin_ ; Louis prided himself in being a great pun creator), his pride and joy; he hired Niall to stay at the front, but it was too much work for her alone, so Liam came shortly after to work while looking for a job himself, and Louis couldn’t have been more grateful for Liam’s skill with customers. Almost as if he didn’t actually study to be a pharmacist.

The puffs were out of the oven, half of them were to be put in the blast chiller for tomorrow’s croquembouche; half of them were to be filled with cream for the profiteroles. He also needed to put the fraisier out of the chiller, while the cream was mixing.

“Liam, oi!” Liam’s head peeped in the laboratory, and Louis gestured vaguely towards the fraisier, filling a sac-à-poche with the cream. “Take this one to display. I’m doing the profiterole for Mrs. Filcher, when is she coming again?”

Liam stopped in his tracks, the fraisier in his hands. “In an hour, more or less? You’ve got the time to let them chill a bit.”

An hour was _a lot_ of time by Louis’ standards. He could easily get started on the macarons while the profiteroles were in the chiller.

Good. He needed to be extra fast because of tonight’s dinner; he didn’t want to be late for something so important.

 

The air was definitely awkward, and he could feel it. Jude was looking at him nervously over his menu, and Louis was keeping his breath under control so there wouldn’t be any accidents before he told Jude about his Issue. They didn’t even need to look at the menu, to be honest, the _Eastern Chillout_ was their go-to place, and they never changed their order: lamb with vine fruits for Louis and grilled chicken for Jude.

“Do you want to change your favourite, babe?” Jude shook his head, still eyeing him over the menu.

“No, I was… I was just thinking if I want to have a gül şerbet or the ayran.”

Louis nodded, feeling a bit dizzy from the breath control. Their conversation had never been so stilted; usually Jude was even more talkative than he was. He had a prickly feeling this evening wouldn’t end well, but Jude insisted to go out to eat and not have a quiet night in. He never felt like he had to fill the silences with Jude, and yet. “Um. I think maybe the ayran’s better?” Louis scratched the back of his neck, trying not to start jiggling his leg. “I mean. Since you’re ordering meat and all.”

Jude just hummed, and let Louis place the order when the waiter arrived, choosing to stare at the candle placed at the centre of the table. Louis started tapping his fingers on the table, trying to find a tempo to keep with no avail. “How was work?”

Jude seemed to snap out of whatever thing he was thinking about, eyeing Louis warily. “Good. Thanks.”

“Did something happen?”

“No.”

Okay, then. Louis looked around, stilling his fingers. Jude seemed nervous, but he really needed to get over with the thing; maybe he could distract Jude from whatever he was feeling. “Can we talk, babe?”

Jude looked at him and sighed. “Yes, actually. We really need to talk.”

So much for someone who had said that nothing happened not more than five seconds before. Louis crossed and uncrossed his leg, trying to find a comfortable position. “I have something to tell you.”

Jude sighed again, and lifted a hand to stop Louis from talking. “I also have something to tell you, and I’d rather say it first.”

Louis nodded, biting his lips. Well, his great revelation had to wait now, but at least Jude was talking again. “Sure, go ahead.”

Jude scratched his chin, avoided looking Louis in the eyes and dropped the bomb. “I think it’s better if we stop seeing each other after this evening, Louis.”

In five months, Jude had never called Louis with his name, not even the night they got to know each other. Louis took two big breaths, trying to keep the oxygen afflux constant. “Wh—what do you mean?”

Jude thanked with a nod the waiter bringing their food, and started to dig in. Louis’ appetite had become the size of a golf ball. “I mean that I thought I could be with an asexual, Louis, but I’ve discovered that I can’t entertain a relationship only with my hand, if you know what I mean.”

Louis swallowed around the lump in his throat, feeling a familiar sensation at the back of his neck. Fucking _shit_. “I’ll. I’ll be in the bathroom.”

He could hear Jude hissing “ _come back here and don’t make a scene, for fuck’s sake, don’t avoid confrontation_ _”_ , but he was focused to get into the cubicle before disappearing completely. Once inside, he stared miserably at his clothes, the only thing he could see. His stomach kinda hurt, his eyes prickled with unshed tears, and his heart beat was irregular and he couldn’t stop it. He let out a single sob before biting his lower lip so hard he drew blood. Fuck everything, honestly.

He heard the bathroom door open and someone coming in, he didn’t even have to listen to the voice to know it was Jude. “Louis, come on. You’re not a kid. Come on.”

“Yes, thank you Jude, can I piss in peace?” His voice came out biting and sarcastic, even if his hands were trembling.

“I know for a fact you’re not pissing. Come on, you can’t always avoid confrontation! Every single time I’ve tried to speak to you you’ve disappeared,” Louis marvelled at Jude’s word choice, “and I honestly not only need a sexual life, but I need a partner who’s mature and doesn’t escape every time the situation becomes a bit more difficult. Louis, come on.”

Louis started to pick at the hems of his jumper; his eyes were burning, and the only thing stopping him from crying was the fact that he didn’t want Jude to hear him. “What the fuck, Jude? Where does this come from now?”

Jude knocked on the door, just a little too loud to be polite. “How can you demand that we speak if you refuse to open the door? For fuck’s sake, Louis! You can’t be fucking serious!”

Louis tried to regain control of his breathing. “Jude, you’re causing a scene, please.”

He heard a grunt from the other side of the door, and sighed. The outline of his hands was barely visible but surely _there_ , and he hoped he could go back to being visible in five minutes or so. If the knocking stopped, anyway.

“Louis, I want you to fucking come out and talk to me. Fucking man up!”

Or maybe not. “Jude, come on, you know I don’t like this kind of thing…”

“And I don’t like talking to a closed door, so guess who the fuck cares? Not me! Just grow a fucking pair and look at me in the eyes when I talk to you!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jude, do you think this is going to make me want to face you?”

“I don’t fucking care. You’ve been like this since the beginning of our relationship. Christ, you don’t even act like an asexual! You’re probably just cheating on me with someone else.”

The outline of his hand had disappeared, and his breath was coming out laboured. “Jude. This. Is not the way. To resolve things.”

The knocking stopped, and for five seconds the only things Louis could hear was Jude and his breathing. Then, “Whatever, I’m fucking tired on your shenanigans.”

The outside door opened and closed, and when Louis was sure he was alone, he finally started to cry in earnest.

 

***

 

“… And then he left me there with the bill to pay. The prick couldn’t… couldn’t even pay his fucking half of the bill.” Louis was still sniffling a bit, grateful for once to the fact that his friends couldn’t see him. He was a right mess, with his hair turned greasy because of how many times he carded his fingers through it, his eyes all puffed up and his lips bitten red. Zeina was spooning him from behind, comfortably seated on the couch, and Niall and Liam shared the beanbag.

“Mate, honestly, he puts the shit in bullshit. What the fuck,” Niall hisses, braiding her hair in a crooked French braid and elbowing Liam from time to time, fire in her eyes.

“I just... I don’t understand? I’ve been clear with him from day one. He knew I was asexual and I wasn’t fucking interested in having sex with him, why the fuck did he wait four fucking months to tell me?”

Zeina’s arms tightened around him, her intricate henna design showing a bit more when her wrists were left uncovered. “It’s because he’s a right prick, Lou. It’s absolutely not your fault. He maybe thought he could–” she made the quote gesture with her hands, “– _convince_ or even worse, _convert_ you to a sexual lifestyle, and when he saw he, in fact, couldn’t, he decided to dump you to move on his next prey. He’s shittier than shit itself.”

Louis sighed and closed his eyes. He was starting to calm down, and he really needed to go to sleep; the next day was a breakfast day in the café and he needed to be in the laboratory at 4am. “I’m so sorry I ruined your Friday evening, guys.”

Liam snorted, waving his hand. “You mean me awkwardly third-wheeling those two and their heart eyes? No offense but I really much prefer this.”

Niall squawked indignantly and tried to elbow Liam in the balls; Liam tried to tickle her in retaliation, and Louis hiccoughed out a laugh. Zeina was still cuddling him close, nuzzling his hair. “What do you think of a makeover?”

“You mean like putting makeup on me even though you can’t really see me?”

“I mean, it would be nice, and I’d get the chance to try the new _Nude Dude_ palette on you. You’d look good with goldens and bronzes.”

Louis scoffed and head-butted Zeina’s chest. “You know my favourites are the pinks, you can’t take that away from me.”

“Lou doesn’t want us to think he’s one of those pissbabies who can’t handle femininity, that’s the truth.” Niall stood victoriously over Liam’s stomach, decisively ignoring his choking sounds, and watching them with a sly smirk. “Don’t worry Lou; you’re still our favourite cis boy. And Liam, Liam is our favourite too,” she added hastily, because Liam had put two fingers in her ribs.

Louis laughed, watching his hands slowly reappearing. “I mean, at least I’m not one of the straights.”

 

That he wasn’t _one of the straights_ , he discovered it in year 5 when he got the hugest crush ever on Sidell Williams, a guy in year 6, and suddenly his dreams were filled of them holding hands and walking together down the streets with big pink candy floss on a stick. Then in year 6 he was crushing on Brenda Macey, and when he had reached Zeina for help she’d looked at him with a know-it-all expression and told him he was likely to be interested in people of more genders, or “even all genders, Lou!”. Zeina in year 6 looked a lot like Hermione Granger, with all her knowledge and wittiness, but it was mostly because she had begun to explore her feminine side – she used to spend a lot of time in the library reading a lot of books, so she was bound to know more than him on gender and sexuality (or the lack thereof).

Then puberty hit him, and… it wasn’t really how puberty was supposed to feel, and Louis discovered this in bits and pieces of conversations heard at school, and from the brochures his mom brought him because he needed to “learn what was happening”. Only, what was ‘happening’ wasn’t really happening.

Sure, he got taller, and his voice got deeper, and he got that cringe-worthy little moustache on his upper lip, and he started to get hair everywhere (and thus started to groom himself). He also got to wake up with a stiffy, sure, but that wasn’t… the whole point, and it had seemed to be for all the people around him. Suddenly, everyone had started to call people “hot” and Louis hadn’t understood really what it meant at first, and also hadn’t understood the need to “rub one off” at all times. On the occasions he did, it felt good, but it wasn’t that big of a deal, and he couldn’t understand why everyone else was so set on sex being “the best thing ever”.

He knows his (a)sexuality crisis would have been worse if it wasn’t for Zeina. She’d found him hiding in the darkest corner of his room and sobbing his eyes out on a Sunday afternoon, and, once making Louis confess what was eating him from the inside, had been really set on finding out what everything meant. “If there’s a thing I know for sure, Lou,” she’d said to him that day, “is that you aren’t broken. Because if you are, then I am too, and I know for a fact I’m not broken, wallahi.”

And so, at the ripe age of 13, and thanks to his best friend, Louis Tomlinson discovered he was asexual. Discovering that what he felt had a name didn’t meant his problems were solved; he spent a good chunk of his adolescence hating himself and wishing to feel sexual attraction to someone, for once. He was so scared he wouldn’t have found anyone that would have agreed to settle with him, to put up with the fact that he was asexual; he had spent the night with his eyes wide open, wondering if he’d have to spend the rest of his life alone with ten cats, and nobody to remember him once he was dead.

The funny thing is that, just like his invisibility problem, he can’t even remember exactly _when_ he accepted himself fully in regards of his sexuality, probably because there wasn’t a specific event or person that made him accept himself. It just happened that all his thoughts about how people would have to put up with him became thoughts about how he didn’t want to put up with people who didn’t accept his asexuality. He’d been out of the closet about being a biromantic asexual for a long time, and it was easier to deal with imbeciles.

Which was basically why he couldn’t understand how he could have been so _stupid_ with Jude. He told him everything as soon as possible when they started dating, and while he was wary about the fact that Jude didn’t know what his black ring meant, he didn’t want to hold it against him; being best friends with Zeina, he had to be schooled (and scolded) so many times that he couldn’t do it.

Maybe that was his first error, and maybe his second was him not noticing when Jude acted insufferable when talking about his sexual orientation. He had ascribed it to Jude not being comfortable enough to talk about things in general, yet, and it had been like that with Niall too at the beginning. She’d been one of those awkward allies that went miles to say they supported asexual people and whatnot (not that Louis had really a problem with that attitude; when not malicious, it was just a bit ridiculous but not hurtful).

And yet, Jude had probably just wanted to dip his wick in spite of Louis telling him he was asexual.

And the problem was that Jude wasn’t even the first one to say he didn’t “act like an asexual”. Because Louis had a dirty mouth, and he liked snogging and cuddling, when it didn’t lead to sex. With Jude they didn’t even get to the part where sex was not always off the plate. Shit would have hit the fan that evening because apparently there was only one way to be asexual, regardless of the fact that asexuality was a spectrum, and if the asexual in question didn’t respect all the criteria people had in mind, then they were no real asexual. So foul-mouthed, tactile, touchy-feely, not-sex-repulsed Louis wasn’t really an asexual, unless people were trying to convince him to have sex with them, because _at least you can have sex, you’re not gonna let your partner down, innit?_

Louis, frankly, had enough of all that. It was exactly the reason why he mostly hid in the laboratory all day, and the only people working with him at _All or Muffin_ were two of his closest friends. And he really didn’t want that to change.

 

 

In the following days, the only thing Louis could think about was working. He was still a bit translucent and ghostly looking, but it wasn’t really visible if people didn’t pay particular attention to that. So, he got up at 3AM every day, and experimented new kinds of things during the rare breaks he got. He started making the cupcake dough less sweet, and he added a filling to some; he made a mojito cupcake that was really well balanced and great to taste; he also perfected his coconut flour macarons, and he made some with hazelnut and chestnut flour. At the end of his 10-hours working day, all he could do was go home (thank god he lived just across from his shop), trying not to collapse during a five-minutes-dinner and a five-minutes-shower, and then throw himself on the bed. Nevertheless, he was really satisfied with the outcome, and it allowed him not to dwell on his breakup, so it worked for him.

He knew that it wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but hiding behind his job had always been his way to deal with things, and he surely wasn’t going to stop now. If Liam and Niall took turns in peeping from the door and watching him like concerned mothers, who cared? He was 28 years old, he could fucking handle himself.

 

***

 

So, the problem was that Louis _hated_ using pumpkin in sweet recipes. The other problem was that autumn was exactly the season where everyone started asking for pumpkin-flavoured pastry, and he was the one who had to make them and deal with pumpkin-smelling things all the rime.

He was currently in the process of making a _pâte brisée_ with nuts, to make a pumpkin-and-apple flavoured tarte tatin. In his opinion, the autumn-themed macarons were more than enough, but alas. He had to live with orange-y pastries for a bit (and he still had to start on the pumpkin cupcakes, the pumpkin-and-raisin scones, the pumpkin bars, the pumpkin custards…).

Louis had this routine, where he came at 4am in the laboratory and for the first thirty minutes, he kneaded the few types of breads they sold; then he started on the breakfast pastries (rolls, bagels, muffins, buns and croissants, with the odd big cake) at 4:30, and on the normal ones at 6:30. First the mini pastries (ready just in time for the mid-morning rush), then the big cakes and the orders (unless he had high priority orders, but that was another story). Then, before the laboratory closed out, more or less an hour and a half before the shop did, he prepared the dough to leave to rise for the night so he didn’t have to do it the following morning. He usually hung out for a bit out the front with Niall or Liam for a couple of minutes, occasionally eating something, before going upstairs and collapsing on his bed. He’d never wanted someone with him in the laboratory, because being with people meant the risk of _feeling_ things, and he didn’t really fancy going invisible on a co-worker.

He’d just finished in the laboratory that day, and was sitting behind the counter with a steaming tea mug in his hands. The shop was quiet, only a couple of regulars, delightful old ladies that never failed to come for the tea. Liam was counting the leftover pastries (not many, for Louis’ pride) and decidedly not watching Louis, like he wouldn’t have done even if Louis (?) had shagged his partner in front of him. Louis wasn’t nearly awake enough to deal with it in a delicate manner.

“Okay, tell me what you want to tell me and we’ll see what we can do to solve it,” he said with a low enough voice that the tea party couldn’t hear. Liam turned his head to look at him, startled, and Louis just shrugged; he _really_ didn’t have the strength to deal with this properly.

“I don’t know if you want to hear it.” Liam was gnawing on his bottom lip, and turned his head again, started to clean the counter.

“You tell me, and then I’ll tell you if I wanted to hear it or not.” Liam was wary, Louis could tell. Oh Christ, did he fuck Greg again? “Wait. Did you fuck Greg again because if yes, then you’re right; I don’t want to hear it.”

Liam barked out a laugh, covering his mouth immediately after, and finally looking at him. “Bro, I would never disrespect you like that. No, it’s something that has nothing to do with my love life.”

Louis sighed, relieved. “Then tell me, because if it’s not you putting your dick in something, then I can definitely get behind it.”

Liam hit his head, making Louis spill a bit of hot tea on his hand. He glared at him and kicked him in the shin in retaliation. “Payno, do that thing another time and I swear to god…” Liam smirked; the only reason Louis was not being currently tickled to death was that he had a mug in his hands. He kicked him another time, just to be sure. “If you’re quite finished…”

Liam shook his head and smiled sadly. “The fact is… I’ve been offered a job in the pharmacy down the road. One of their staff moved, I’m not sure where, and they called me yesterday. I can totally refuse the offer, though!”

Louis’ mouth was hanging open, and he thanked his past self for having worked so much that he felt physically incapable of feeling emotion in that moment. “Liam…”

“I mean, it’s not the end of the world! There’ll be other opportunities, and since it’s a difficult moment I can totally refuse, I swear!” Liam talked fast, as he always did when he was nervous. Louis shook his head and put his hand on Liam’s arm to stop his word vomit.

“Li, love, it’s okay. It’s what you always wanted, innit?” The only reason he hired Liam at the beginning was that he couldn’t find a job fast enough, and he needed money. Liam’s goal had always been be a pharmacist, and Louis didn’t want to be that person standing between him and his dreams.

“I know, but you ne-“

“Fuck off. Me and Niall will be okay. I’ll reduce the opening hours and look for another person. And you’ll pass me free meds, of course.” Louis smirked, and thanked the lord that he was too tired to think about the consequences of Liam leaving _All or Muffin_. “But you have to stop acting like I just killed your cat, or you’ll scare the customers off.”

Liam laughed again and went back to work smiling.

Louis was fucked.

 

“Zeina said she can help during the weekends, if you need it. And I can do more hours.” Niall flipped the sign to _closed_ on the front door, and was leaning on the wall of the laboratory while Louis made the meringue for the lemon curd cupcakes. He wanted to make a couple of _îles flottantes_ , but he wasn’t sure he’d still have some meringue left after having made the cupcakes. Oh well.

“That’s great. We… huh. We might need to shorten the opening hours anyway; I don’t want you to work for 10 hours in a row.” Louis stopped the mixer, dipping a teaspoon in the meringue to taste it. It wasn’t too sweet, which was good for the purpose of the cupcake. He took out of the blast chiller the still-not-filled cupcakes and the lemon curd, and proceeded to fill a sac-à-poche to pipe the curd in them, methodically.

“You still need to put that announcement, Lou, you know that.” Niall was rolling a cigarette, careful not to drop any piece of tobacco. The fact that she smoked rollies and her thick glasses really added on the whole hipster girl aesthetic that she was sporting currently.

Louis sighed and nodded, without stopping his work. He really needed to put those announcements out but at the same time he really didn’t want some stranger to come in his shop and in his life. “Roll up one for me too, can you?”

Niall snorted out a laugh and looked at Louis in a way that was saying _I know what you’re up to_. “I’ll help you write the thing tonight after work.”

Well then.

 

The announcement read ‘ _Help wanted in nice pastry shop in Salisbury city centre. Must be able to manage the counter,_ _friendly, outgoing, but most of all enthusiastic_ _. Experience required. Genuine callers only. Reply with your CV_. Louis wasn’t a great diplomatic, but that was too short even for him.

“I am… very much not sure about that announcement, if I have to be totally honest.” Louis put his face between his hands, staring at the computer screen. Fizzy, on the other side, was reading closely.

“ _I mean, if it does the trick and people start coming, then they’ll be already warned about the boss’ grumpiness. If not, then you change it._ ” She was smiling beatifically like she’d just revealed the capital T Truth to the world.

“If you’re quite finished with the platitudes, sis…” She squawked indignantly, making Louis chuckle. “I mean, it’s true! You had the expression of someone who just dropped a truth bomb when in fact… It wasn’t.”

Fizzy shook her head, but she was smiling. “ _You’re horrible. I miss you a lot_.”

Louis smiled; he missed her too, he missed his family more than anything. “You live only a couple of hours away; you can come with Zeina next weekend, and bring your girlfriend with you.”

“ _I’m not sure Tamar feels ready for this kind of thing, if you know what I mean_.” In spite of the low quality of his sister’s cam, her blush was still well visible on the screen. Louis smirked.

“You two basically live together! I promise you can sleep in the same bed, if this is what it’s bothering you. I’m asexual, not a monster.” The blush on Fizzy’s cheeks deepened, and Louis began to chuckle.

“ _Louiiiis, come on, you know that’s not… come_ on! _I hate you. See if I answer your calls ever again_.”

“You sexual people are so weird!” Fizzy hid her face in her arms, and oh, Louis loved to taunt her. It was so easy. “Always thinking with your genitalia. Doesn’t it ever get tiring?”

“ _You’re dead, Louis. So dead_.”

Louis loved his sister.

 

It wasn’t that Louis was actively trying to avoid hiring someone; he knew he needed more staff because Niall couldn’t do all the work. It was just that he really couldn’t afford to fuck this up. And yes, Niall’s hiring process had been exactly the same, with Louis flicking through dozens of applications, till he decided that _Niall Horan, age 22_ was what he was looking for. So yeah, he wanted the best he could have, because Liam had been a precious help, and if he could find someone that was at least a tenth as hard-working as Liam, he’d be happy.

(“What about this one? It says they just graduated in sociology, they look fun.”

“Nope, I don’t need someone who looks for another job while working here. I need someone who will stay at least a couple of years; I’m not going through all this shit again in six months.”

“This one then? He looks like he wants to settle with a job and– no wait, never mind. He sent a picture. You really _do not_ want something like this… thing in your shop.”

“Was him the stereotypical straight dude?”

“He was someone that I wouldn’t leave my drink with if we were at the club.”)

So yeah, all in all Louis wasn’t even _that_ choosy. He just wanted someone who both Niall and he could be comfortable with, and who knew how to work. So why all he received were curricula of graduate students at the first experience? He had so many more applications than when he opened, of course, because _All or Muffin_ had a good reputation among the clientele, but he didn’t have time to train a rookie, he just needed someone who knew his way around a serving job.

And Liam was going by tomorrow, his two weeks’ notice already ending. Louis was up shit creek without a paddle.

He was already half in the slumber preceding the sleep when his phone started to ring. He was about to shut down the call, but the clock marked seven thirty, and it was probably important. “Hello?”

“ _Um. Hello, sorry, am I interrupting something? I’m calling for the job?_ ” Well then, he was the first one to call, in the internet era. Louis cleared his throat to shake away the grogginess.

“No, no, sorry! I’m Louis Tomlinson, the owner. With whom do I have the pleasure…?”

“ _Oh, yeah, right. Um. I’m Harry Styles and I’m a pastry chef_.” Harry’s voice was deep and he spoke slowly, enunciating all the syllables.

“A pastry chef? The ad was for someone at the counter, are you sure you’ve called the right number?” Louis felt like a right tit for telling him that, but on the other hand, he really didn’t need someone with him in the laboratory, watching him slowly fading away at the minimum hint of emotion.

“ _Yes, I know. I’ve considered that; please don’t think that this is me settling, because this is exactly the kind of job I’m looking for._ ”

Louis scratched his hair and suppressed a yawn. “Okay, I mean… we will take your application into consideration. Did you send a CV?”

“ _I did! Yes, thank you so much._ ” Harry sounded relieved, for some unknown reason.

“Well then. Uh… thank you so much for calling, Harry Styles.”

“ _No, no, thank_ you! _I hope I’ll be hearing from you soon!_ ”

 

 

Harry Styles was a rather slight and petite man, with honest to god brown ringlets that went just past his shoulders. He was still taller than Louis was, and his hands were gigantic compared to Louis’. He had green eyes and full lips, and just a hint of stubble; his expression was timid, and he hunched himself slightly, as is he wanted to occupy less space. “I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. Tomlinson, but the first train was delayed, and I had to wait for the other one.”

Louis smiled politely. He’d started working at 4am to clear up the time for the (informal; he didn’t even have an office) interview, and he was already too tired. “You can call me Louis. Do you want something to drink?”

Harry nodded, relieved. “Tea’s fine, thank you.”

With two mugs full of steaming tea (lady grey for Harry, plain black for him), Louis prepared himself for the interview to come. “So, Harry, I won’t deny I was surprised when I saw your CV; you’re a bit overqualified for this place.”

Harry blushed and nodded. “I, err, I read about you on a HuffPost article? It was about you showering the Salisbury pride in rainbow cupcakes.”

Louis smiled at the memory. It had been a couple of months ago, because Louis got to know one of the members of the organising committee. Eleanor was nice and when Louis proposed to bake something pride-themed to offer or to sell, she’d roped four people to help him with that. Louis hadn’t really… appreciated, but he hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want to give any explanation. So, for a week _All Or Muffin_ had worked less, only for the breakfast and the reserved pastries, and Louis had found himself directing a veritable production like where everyone did something. At the end of the day, it went well, both in terms of popularity and in terms of personal satisfaction, and he was already thinking of repeating the experience for the parade the year after.

“It was a great experience.” He had the articles framed up in his house.

Harry smiled, still timid. “Yes, and um, since it seems you’re, um, gay-friendly? I thought this could be a great place to work.”

Louis assented. “Mate, we pride ourselves in our lack of straights in this business. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Harry visibly relaxed, nodding. “Thank you so much.”

Okay then. It wasn’t Louis’ job to pry into the life of someone who probably suffered homophobia and wanted to escape. He smiled awkwardly. “I mean… I hope you know I can’t pay you as much as Williams did? And you’ll be working 35 hours per week, so it’s not really that much.”

Harry kept on nodding eagerly, resembling a cocker spaniel with his mass of curls. “Yeah, I already considered that, and it’s okay, believe me! I just need…” He paused, awkwardly sipping his tea, and shook his head.

Louis smiled, and raised his hands. “I was just making sure you know. If you’re okay with me paying you much less than you’re used to, there’s no problem.” _I don’t want to make you uncomfortable_ was left unsaid, but judging from Harry’s face, he understood.

“I think it’s only fair I start from the bottom, money-wise, don’t worry.”

Louis sipped his tea, and smiled.

 

Overall, Louis didn’t see much of Harry in the first few weeks he worked at the shop. Niall was the one who trained him, dutifully reporting everything back to Louis. Harry was eager to learn everything, and a truly hard worker. He complimented the pastries often (“It’s because he doesn’t want you to feel threatened, Lou.”), and was very polite with the customers. He hadn’t questioned Niall’s assurance that Louis wasn’t to be disturbed when in the laboratory, and was, according to Niall, “a cupcake sweet enough rival yours”.

Louis was glad that Harry was proving himself, he really didn’t want to recruit again. He felt a little bad he could only pay him a little bit above the minimum wage, but he reasoned he wouldn’t have had the same problem with someone who didn’t come from a _fucking_ starred restaurant to work as a glorified server.

On the other hand, he would never leave his precious laboratory to Harry, no matter his ability, and working with him was a no-no. He slowly recovered from the heartache, but being with someone he didn’t know was bound to cause _feelings_ , which in turn were bound to cause _invisibility_ , and that was exactly what Louis wanted to avoid.

 

***

 

It was three weeks of Harry working for him, and Louis was literally _submerged_ by orders of the strangest kind. For one, Louis had never done cake design, but suddenly there were a lot of requests for specifically designed cakes. He could make the flowers, sure , but a cake “depicting the final battle scene from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ ” was definitely not in the realm of possibilities. And Niall told him she had to refuse at least twenty times requests for catering, since _All or Muffin_ didn’t really do catering.

It was getting worse every day. Louis worked two hours more to process all the orders (the ones he could take, at least) and make sure the counter didn’t go unfurnished; he was so stressed that there wasn’t a moment during the day where he was fully opaque. Days where Harry was at the counter ‘til closing were painful because he really couldn’t get out of the laboratory without having to do some awkward explaining. He thanked the gods it was cold season so he could bundle himself up and just sneak out without so much as a word in greeting. Between that and the fact that he didn’t really allow Harry inside the laboratory, Harry must think he’s a freak.

He wasn’t even sure why it had been easier with Niall; maybe because she rapidly became the centre of Zeina’s life, and it felt just right, or maybe because Louis had a devolution in the past years. He didn’t really know, and he didn’t really have the time to think about it. Between éclairs, miniature chocolatey Christmas trees, and choux pastry, he was sure he could positively die of exhaustion.

Overall, that’s the reason he took that decision, whatever his friends said about it.

 

He had just finished with the last batch of biscuits, and the only thing he wanted was to go home and sleep off the exhaustion. Sleeping was a problem as of late, all the pent-up stress and tension made it difficult, and he frequently woke up with a headache that couldn’t be calmed with an ibuprofen. He hadn’t even noticed Harry calling him at first, when he risked setting foot outside of the laboratory without checking if the coast was clear.

The only reason he didn’t really get scared when Harry touched him on the shoulder was that he was too tired for it. He just hoped that he couldn’t see his translucency, and focused on controlling his breath. “Harry. Hey. How is work going?”

Harry had his uniform on, but he’d taken away the cap and his hair was done up in a bun; he was skittish, moving his hands restlessly on his thighs. “Hi, boss. Everything’s okay.”

Louis had nodded, fighting to keep his eyes open. Five o’ clock and already dead on his feet. “I’m glad. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“No, actually, I… I wanted to ask you something, boss.” Harry had been fidgeting and looking everywhere but at him, looking ready to fling himself off the planet earth.

Louis didn’t even have the energy to raise an eyebrow normally, right then all he could do was nod weakly. “Absolutely, tell me.”

“I… uh, I know you’ve been swamped with orders lately. And I, uh. I think I know why.”

“I mean, it’s not like I’m opposed to having more clientele and orders, I just wish they knew what they were asking for,” Louis commented shrugging. Bed. _Bed_. He wanted his comfy bed. At the rate they had been going, he wouldn’t even have time for a shower before planting face first into his bed.

“Yeah, I know, but… See, it’s one of my former co-workers that apparently knew people here and he… He put out the news I was working here.” Harry’s cheeks were ruddy and his eyes downcast.

Louis keep voluntarily his gaze out of him when he spoke again, choosing to watch the two old ladies chattering away in front of their teas. “Okay. I can assure you I can deal with that, don’t worry.”

Harry had shook his head violently. “But Niall’s been saying you look dead on your feet and she’s been really worried…” He’d trailed off, realising he’d probably crossed the line. Fuck Niall and her big mouth, honestly.

His bed was so close, all he had to do was get home and he’d be there. “I appreciate your concerns and hers, but I can assure you I can–”

“Please let me help you!” Harry’s interruption came as a surprise, and Louis whipped his heard towards him. His first reaction was to shush him, eyeing the old ladies, and then he’d thanked the gods his only visible skin was around his eyes, because he hadn’t known if he could control his breathing anymore.

“Harry, you know I work alone.”

“I know boss, but I swear I’ll be at your orders, and I know that being alone in a laboratory is not easy. And this situation is my fault, and… I’ll still work at the counter of course! And you don’t have to pay me. Please, boss.”

Louis was still dreaming of his bed, and the fastest way to get out of the conversation seemed to be to agree. “A trial week. _Paid_ , I’m not a monster. And when we’ll see.”

Harry smiled suddenly, two deep dimples appearing in his cheeks. He looked like a happy kid at Christmas morning, and Louis was lost staring at him for a couple of seconds. “Thank you, boss! I promise it’s worth it!”

Louis moved his hand in what hoped was a ‘ _don’t worry’_ kind of gesture. “Come tomorrow at 6am to work on the pastries. You already have your whites, innit?”

Harry nodded and let him go upstairs. Bed, finally.

 

Louis’ decision only sunk in after he slept and was (kind of) kicking again. The sole thought of having to see him for an entire week had thrown Louis in a fit of panic, which, in turn, had caused him to disappear completely for thirty minutes, and starting the work late. He threw himself into work, and by the time Harry was scheduled to arrive, not only had he managed to forget he had someone in his laboratory that day, but he was almost finished with the viennoiseries. The work was repetitive, and not the kind of baking that made him fall in love with the craft, but he had to survive someway, so viennoiseries, buns, and scones it was. If he ever started to organise tea parties like Niall suggested, he’d have to do sandwiches and savoury things too. He can barely even make bread. He just wanted to finish so he could get to the éclairs, honestly.

“Um. May I come in?” Or maybe not. Louis jumped, remembering _why_ he started late that morning, and frantically looked at his hands to check he wasn’t about to disappear.

Harry was hoovering awkwardly on the threshold, already with his whites on. They were amazing and really well done, with his name emblazoned over his heart in fancy cursive letters. “I hope it’s okay if I changed here? I didn’t want to come inside with my outside clothes…”

Louis nodded, heart still beating fast, and cleared his throat. “I hope you already had breakfast, there are 150 éclairs to do before the opening, and the choux pastry hasn’t been made yet.”

Harry stepped inside; Louis bit his lip. “I already put out all the ingredients, but if you need me to tell you where are things, just ask.” He watched Harry relaxing imperceptibly, and nodding with more energy.

Then, it was as if something had changed in him. His wary expression morphed into a focused look, and he started to work without a word.

Louis took the last batch of buns out of the oven and disposed them on a tray; he brought them out of the laboratory, and put them on display with the other breakfast pastries. When he got back, ready to get started on the canelés, Harry was turning the kneader on, all the eggs near him in a neat order. He seemed lost in what he was doing, and his movements were fast, practiced. Louis calculated he saved at least an hour and a half with him there.

Even with the cap on, Louis had to admit Harry was still really attractive. It wasn’t lost on him, even with all the Jude mess he was starting to overcome, and with the whole invisibility mess he had to avoid for a week.

So, canelés.

 

Harry was good, there was no denying it; he mostly worked in silence, sometimes humming tunes to himself, without raising his eyes from the table. In the following days, Louis discovered himself twiddling his thumbs often, for lack of things to do. He wasn’t used to have so much free time while in the laboratory, and even though they could pick out new orders (at least for the time being, Louis always reminded himself) he just had more time that he knew how to use. Harry was always there, never lifting his eyes and working with a professionality that Louis realised he didn’t expect, even if he couldn’t say he was surprised.

When he called the restaurant to get the references, they’d been so enthusiastic about Harry, too. And Louis wasn’t stupid, he knew one didn’t simply abandon a job like that so young (Harry was three years _younger_ than him) without having had some problems, and of course these problems were of queer origins, or he wouldn’t be working at a hole in the wall shop that barely employs three people. There was literally no other explanation. Maybe mobbing or an unwanted outing, at least seeing the fact that his former co-worker had told people he worked here, apparently. The sole thought made his skin crawl. He had a bit of a mother hen instinct; when Fizzy started to get shit because she was lesbian (and Lottie told him because _of course_ that scoundrel would never tell her brother in fear of upsetting him), he’d gone and threatened someone younger than him over his sister, and he would have beaten up the kid if it wasn’t for the fact that he was nine years his junior. So it was just normal than, upon thinking about his employee being discriminated against for his queerness, he felt the anger rising.

On the other hand, it was better for him, because he could finally sleep fully and well, and he’d gained a great worker; Harry could even do some cake design, and, while Louis maintained that it wasn’t real patisserie without some substance underneath, the fact that he didn’t have to spend hours making roses in plastic chocolate because Harry was better and faster was surely a plus.

Well, after all it might not only be a week, Louis just had to decide whether he was ready to lose his safe space in exchange for some sleep and some more relax.

 

 

So, in the end Louis asked Harry to stay. He still couldn’t bring himself to tell him about his _problem_ , especially given how the last attempt went. But it was at the end of the trial week, and he could tell that Harry thought he was done in the lab from the way he slouched more (after all, Louis reasoned, it was something he’d studied for and he genuinely wanted to do; he was just being charitable), so when he took him aside after a long day of work he could see Harry preparing himself to the bad news.

“So, it seems like you’re a precious help, after all,” Louis said. “You’re hired. We need to renegotiate the terms of your contract first time on Monday.”

Harry positively _squealed_ , with his hand pressed on his mouth, and looked just about ready to cry in front of him. Or hug him, or both. “Boss! Thank you, boss! I promise I won’t disappoint you!”

He actually ended up wrapping a hand around Louis, which resulted in a lot of coughing and an awkward pat on his shoulder, with a side of a grumbled “Yeah, yeah okay, you deserve it.”

And a trip to the loo approximately 1.5 seconds later, where he looked at his spectral hands for five minutes, willing them to reappear completely.

It was settled, then.

 

Harry was as open with his feelings as Louis was closed off. It was almost scary, how much they were at the opposites for this thing; once there wasn’t any danger not to work in the laboratory anymore, Harry became more relaxed and started talking with a simplicity that shouldn’t have been that easy to reach, not with him _still_ being professional and making perfects products.

The laboratory was Louis’ safe space for two hours per day now, the rest of the workday was spent with so many trips to the loo that Harry must have thought he was an incontinent. On the bright side, he could go to the bathroom without getting behind when he worked, which was surely a plus. He went back home a little less exhausted, and could sleep a little bit better every passing day. It wasn’t a great compromise, but it was an acceptable one, and adult life was made of acceptable compromises.

 

“You know, I left the job in London because I’m trans,” Harry casually said one morning, checking on the _crème pâtissière_ for the beignets.

Louis dropped the open flour bag.

Harry looked at him so fast he probably got whiplash, and they stood unmoving for a couple of seconds, watching each other without even blinking.

Then, when Harry spoke, his voice was quiet, resigned. “Is this a problem for you?”

Louis felt he was beginning to disappear from the stress, and fuck, wasn’t it great that this time he was covered in flour from head to toe? “No, Harry, no! Why are you asking that?”

Harry gestured to his flour-covered self. “Was it so big of a news?”

If he could have blushed, he would have, but Louis suspected he was actually pretty ghost in this moment. He hoped really hard it didn’t show. “Oh, lord, no, it’s not that. I’m so sorry if it looked like it was, it’s just…” it was just he didn’t do well heartfelt conversation with people who didn’t know about his problem, but he really couldn’t say that. “I tripped. I… me best friend is trans too, we’ve been friend since reception and she’s the nicest girl ever. I promise I was just really stupid.”

Harry’s shoulders relaxed a bit. “Is she Niall’s girlfriend? She showed me the pics once or twice.”

Louis snorted, and that resulted in a coughing fit because of all the flour. “Once or twice a day?”

Harry smirked, and went back to check the crème. “You have said so.”

Louis checked his hands to see if the situation was under control. “I mean, I know my chickens.”

Harry chuckled a bit, and went to take the choux out of the chiller. They were silent for a bit. Louis took a breath.

“So, you left the job in London because you’re trans.”

Harry nodded, concentrated on filling a sac à poche with the crème, and starting to fill the choux fast and with surgical precision. “Yeah, I did. Since I’m so young, people in the kitchen never liked that I was already head pastry chef. They already knew I was queer so there were jokes about how I probably had sucked some cock to get in that position, but it was bearable. Alyn had been already so nice to me and I didn’t want to burden him. But then, well; I’d asked a week off because I had the bottom surgery to do, and one of my colleagues discovered that my documents had another name printed on them. He was the shittiest of them all and he told the whole brigade, and…” Harry trailed off, still filling the choux, and took a couple of deep breaths. “Well. Long story short I never went back after the surgery. Even if now I’m.” He put down the choux and made air quotes with a hand, his face disgusted. “Legally male, as some people put it.”

Louis was this close from becoming a transparent ball of fury and going to kill all Alyn Williams’ brigade. “What the fuck? Bunch of cunts, all of them. I hope they shit themselves to death. Fetid ballbags.”

Harry made a sound like a duck being stepped on, his head thrown back and his mouth open. He immediately covered it with his free hand, and then resorted to filling the choux again. “I know, you can’t really tell their mouth and arsehole apart. And it’s worrying because they all work around the food.”

Louis guffawed. “Well, I hope that at least they can tell them apart. I can imagine the reviews on TripAdvisor… ‘I paid 150 pounds and my food tasted like literal shit!’”

Harry’s dimple was like a cut in his cheek. “But then the real question would be, how do you know how literal shit tastes?”

“Oh my god! I’ll have you know I’m extremely thankful these choux are not being filled with chocolate mousse.” Louis gestured to the locker where the chocolatey products were stashed.

“Why not? I can make toilet paper and the toilet brush with sugar paste.”

“That surely will attract an interesting clientele.”

“I reckon Mike Patton will start to come, at least.”

“Oh my god, Styles!”

Harry smirked, filling the last choux. “I swear I washed my hands!”

“I don’t even want to now it!” Louis’ belly hurt from how much he was laughing. He took a couple of breaths to try and stop the muscle twitching, letting the silence fill the laboratory; Harry was starting to temper the chocolate, still smirking at the association. He was a cheeky fucker.

“Anyway, before the conversation derailed towards other shores I really don’t want to explore, I wanted to tell you that you’re obviously welcomed here… And I’ll make you meet Zeina, so you two can talk shit about cis people. You’re a great man and an amazing worker, for what is worth I’m really happy you chose to come here and that you’re working in the laboratory now.”

Harry couldn’t lift his eyes from where he was tabling the chocolate on the marble, but his smile lost the joking quality and deepened, and he blinked suspiciously. “Thank you so much. It’s really important for me, both your acceptance and being able to work in the laboratory. I’ll be forever grateful. Not everyone is accepting, even in the queer community.”

“Oh trust me, I know. Nothing exists after the first letter.” At least to people like Jude, apparently. He hadn’t thought about Jude in a while, though, which was progress. “I’m a lonely and solitary A, people have told me a lot of things.”

Harry’s smile deepened more, if that even was possible. “You’re an A too?”

Oh, was Harry…? “I’m A as in asexual. And biromantic. Nominally non-existent.”

Harry chuckled and nodded a bit, pouring the chocolate on a layer of acetate and starting to cut through it. “Don’t tell me, I’m in the aro spectrum, basically unicorns are realer in people’s minds.” He combed through the chocolate and immediately twisted the stripe, leaving the curl to cool off. “I’m akoiromantic, people never believe me when I tell them.”

Admittedly, Louis had _no idea_ about what it meant, but it wasn’t really the right thing to ask in that moment. He made a mental note to google it as soon as he went home. “People are fucking pricks.”

Harry snorted and nodded. “No shit-related appellatives this time? I could always make a bit of profiteroles with this chocolate, and then…”

Louis shivered at the allusion. “As much as I’m a big fan of Mike Patton, I’d prefer not having him in my business. Ew.”

Harry glanced at him devilishly. “Did you know about that time he was in a hotel and–”

Louis put his hands on his ears and started moving towards the toilettes. “La la la la, I can’t hear you! It’s better I go brush off the flour, la la la!”

Harry’s laugh followed him through his walk.

 

_Akoiromantic: someone who may experience romantic attraction and enjoy the idea of romantic relationships in theory, but in practice they stop experiencing romantic attraction or do not enjoy it once they are in a romantic relationship._

Louis stared at the definition, feeling a bit queasy; he didn’t know why, since he knew what being on the aromantic spectrum entailed (just like being on the asexual spectrum for him), but he just had a bitter aftertaste in his mouth and he couldn’t really imagine why. He looked at his hands, seeing the table through them, and cursed under his breath. He couldn’t do that.

 

***

 

Louis’ birthday had arrived, _All or Muffin_ was closed from the 24  th  to the 1  st  , and Louis had gotten home just in time for his birthday dinner. His mother had made a roast and a veggie gelatin terrine, and he brought the cake.

After the dinner, with the stomach full and feeling pleasantly sleepy, he went in the patio with Lottie and Fizzy, to share a cigarette and catch up on life. Lottie was very whitey-blonde and very beautiful, her makeup on fleek, the cosmetology school paying off, and Fizzy stuck to her winged eyeliner that was her makeup since she was 15. They had put a bit of makeup on Louis before the dinner, because he hadn’t had the time to do it himself, and the occasion required it. He was sporting a soft contouring on his cheeks, with shimmering antique pink eyeshadow and copper mascara. He’d always loved makeup on himself, and he didn’t do it that often anymore because between work and staying in for the nights with his friends, he didn’t really want to spend time doing it.

“… And the actual good news is that I’ve been accepted for that paid assistantship in London, so I’ll be off second week of January, without seeing Joe ever again. Ugh, why did I think falling in love with a straight boy was the right thing to do?” Lottie was holding the cigarette between her thumb and index finger, flicking the ashes off with her middle.

Fizzy shook her head. “I mean, I want to say he was particularly stupid, but asking his bisexual girlfriend for a threesome is actually a pretty standard straight boy behaviour.”

“I honestly just hope you made him eat shit, or I can do it for you.” Louis was watching the snow falling out of the patio roofing, his hands near the outdoor heater.

Lottie snorted. “He’s always been a cunt, let’s face it, I have no idea how I got stuck with him, honestly.”

Louis petted her head a bit. “It’s okay, you’re only human. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”

They stayed there in silence for a bit. The cigarette was passed to him and he took a long drag, staring off into the distance. The silence was unreal, with the exception of his sisters’ synced breaths. It was his turn to speak, since he was holding the fag. “So, Harry’s on the aromantic spectrum.”

The rule was that nobody could comment till the story was finished, so his sisters just waited for him to continue. “He’s been really helpful these weeks, and I’ve found myself with more free time that I can use, and we’ve been talking a lot. And, well. He’s cute. And akoiromantic.”

“And you like him.” It wasn’t a question, and Louis knew it, so he just shrugged.

“I don’t… _not_ like him. He’s cute. And he’s good company. So.” He paused a bit, took a drag. “The problem is that I literally have no idea how to entertain a relationship with him. An interpersonal relationship,” he hastily added, when he saw Lottie’s perfect eyebrow raising a bit. “Do I distance myself so I won’t fall? I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. And I’m just scared I sound like one of those overeager allies right now. _I don’t have a problem with them gays, I swear! I have gay friends!_ ”

Both his sisters were giggling, Fizzy with her head on Lottie’s shoulder, a smirk playing on her lips. “You _so_ like him.”

Louis’ phone rang, and it was a message from Harry. _Happy Louis day again! .x_

He smiled, and shook his head. “Come on, let’s go inside to celebrate myself before it’s baby Jesus’ birthday.”

His sisters were sporting two identical smirks.

 

***

Louis didn’t… _not_ like him; Harry was objectively beautiful, and charming, and always had nice words for everyone. When he worked at the counter Louis found himself missing him and his puttering around a bit, and on the other hand, the customers only had nice words about him. He knew when to make conversation and when to just shut up, he was a United supporter, and his work was always flawless. Louis honestly couldn’t find a character flaw even if he looked for it.

Well, the flaw would be that fact that Harry _loved_ cake design. All that sugar paste going to shit because there was so much, and the actual cake went in the background. Bah!

But other than that, Harry was a lovely person, and even Niall had blabbered that she’d “go bisexual for him”. Louis had snorted and blown flour in her face, leaving her sputtering indignantly and go happily back to work.

So, yeah, it’s not that he didn’t like Harry, honestly, it’s just that… what was not to like about Harry?

And the same argument could have been taken to wonder why he didn’t realise before, and he realised he was also in that age where he should have been more in touch with his emotions (and then again, if he had been more in touch with his emotions, he wouldn’t have had the problem he had), but it was just… it was nothing. Harry was aro, and it was nothing.

 

It wasn’t nothing, it was _hell_ . Hell on Earth, or in a laboratory, smelling of sugar, vanilla and chocolate, and in the presence of little things in sugar paste, that Louis _dreaded_.

The frequency with which his problem appeared – or disappeared, you name it – had definitely increased, and even when Louis wasn’t running to hide with the most random excuses

(“Okay, I’m going to take that flour bag now!”

“But there are two here… Louis? Louis!”

And

“I _really_ need to make this call, I’m sorry!”

“… Are you taking your phone with you or?”

And

“I have, uh, bladder problems?”

To which Harry couldn’t comment because. Bladder problems.

How embarrassing though.)

He still found himself pretty spectral at any given time. Sometimes it was worse, sometimes it was better, but he was never totally _present_. The only other time it had happened was when Louis was having his sexual orientation crisis, and thus undergoing a lot of stress and feelings all the time, but he wasn’t neither stressed nor sad this time around, and he couldn’t really understand why.

Or, well, it’s not that he couldn’t understand why, he just didn’t like to think about it.

He was in the process of making mini raspberry cheesecakes and covering them with a chocolate glaze; he’d put a bit of olive oil in it to make it shiny, and was carefully pouring it over the sweets. Harry was working at the counter for the rest of the day, and so Louis was feeling a bit alone; he’d turned on the stereo after years of working in absolute silence, and was nodding to the rhythm of some top-40 song. He was concentrated on the glazing, but he could barely see his hands, and if Harry were to enter without a shout so he could hide, he would have found himself in a difficult position, forced to give explanations he didn’t want to give.

He’d already had to give a bullshit answer the day before, when Harry asked if he could make the breakfast hours every other day, because according to him Louis looked so tired he was “about to disappear”. Louis had lost 10 years of life when he’d heard that words, and had nodded wordlessly before disappearing in the toilet, trying to calm himself.

If he’d been a worse person, he would have found a way to relegate him out at the counter again, despite the fact that they were working more than ever, and _All or Muffin_ was really going well since Harry started to work in the laboratory. He didn’t have the heart to do that, though; he saw the light on Harry’s eyes every time there was a new, complicate order to fulfil, he saw the way he worked, the way he tried to improve every day. Louis didn’t have the courage to send him back to the counter even if the business hadn’t been going that well. So, basically, he was fucked.

He _knew_ he couldn’t continue like this, and he knew he needed to tell Harry sooner or later, and rationally he knew Harry wouldn’t freak out, but he didn’t feel like he was ready yet, regardless of what his friends could think.

 

***

 

“Can you believe it was at least a year ago that we didn’t come to the pub all together?” Liam was smiling happily at them, still clad in the semi-professional clothes he wore at work. Zeina laughed from where she was cuddled up with Niall, and then turned her head towards Louis.

“So, when are we seeing your boy?”

Louis made a face and shook his head. Niall had asked Harry to come, and to bring a friend if he wanted. So now Harry was coming with his friend Bill and they were all waiting for them. “Calm your tits, he’s a colleague.”

Zeina fussed around the hems of her hijab, checking that it arrived at her waist. “You can’t see them, mate. Don’t lie to me.”

Louis laughed. “You’re always perfectly halal, and I’m not that jerky, I would have told you. Also because your perfect look would have been ruined.”

Zeina shook her head. Her full face was perfectly done and her eyeshadow colour coordinated amazingly with her headscarf. Louis almost felt terrible, with his simple winged liner and mascara combo.

“Harry!” Niall got up from her seat and went to hug Harry without giving him the time to do much more than close the pub door. He had his face all red from the cold, and was wearing a beanie over his hair, left down and really curly for the first time. Behind him, a blonde person was standing rather awkwardly, trying not to get hit by Niall’s flailing limbs.

Harry’s friend Bill was a nice individual, who shook hands with everyone and told them they were genderflux and their pronouns changed. They were wearing a cute red pin with their pronouns, and Harry said it was his idea, so they could change it without announcing the change out loud. He was proud as a peacock, showing off his abilities in a way that he didn’t use with his work, and Louis found himself smiling like a loon till Liam elbowed him to make him stop.

So, well, all in all it was going good, Bill was nice and the conversation was flowing; Niall went and bought a jug and a herbal tea for Zeina, and Louis started to relax, thanking the gods above that the day after _All or Muffin_ was closed.

In the middle of it all, Harry leaned towards him with a quirked eyebrow. “I didn’t know you wore makeup.”

Louis shook his head. “I never do when I’m at work, it’s unsanitary; just like your hair.”

Harry shrugged and nodded. “Still, it’s nice to know you’re not one of them cis who’s afraid of something disrupting his masculinity.”

“To be honest, I think if I ever did Zeina would probably defenestrate me.”

Harry laughed, mirth in his eyes. “Come in the bathroom with me, we’re going to mess with Niall’s car.”

Louis let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Wait, what?”

Harry took him from the wrist and started leading him towards the bathrooms; Louis could see Zeina sending a wink in their directions, and gave her the fingers before disappearing behind the door.

“She’s been bragging all the way about her new car. I was thinking about post-its or wet cotton balls, but we don’t have those here.” Harry had put his head in the cubicle and, judging by the noise, he’d started taking out all the toilet paper.

Louis blinked. Wet cotton balls. “What.”

Harry stopped with what he was doing and re-emerged from the cubicle with his hands full of toilet paper. “Because they freeze and stick to everything, and then Niall would have had ice to scrape. But oh well, toilet paper is great too.”

Okay, Louis had never pinned Harry for someone who liked to prank people. He smirked. “I mean, we could wet the toilet paper once on the car, so it will freeze all the same.”

Harry dumped the toilet paper on his arms. “A man after my own heart! I knew you had it in you, Tomlinson!”

Louis’ own heart jumped a bit at that statement, but he ignored it.

 

Niall’s face, when they came out of the pub and she found her car full of frozen toilet paper, was priceless: she’d stood here unmoving, opening and closing her mouth as if she couldn’t process what had happened to her precious car, and then she’d seemed to come to life and had chased Harry and Louis until Zeina stopped her and forced her to help with the toilet paper scraping. Niall had muttered bloody traitors throughout everything, even if they helped her scraping the ice. It had been _priceless_.

And fuck, seeing Harry red-cheeked and panting, bent in half from laughing, and with his dimples that looked like two cuts in his cheeks had done things to Louis. His face had started to contort in strange expressions of fond, and Liam had to elbow him in his stomach because he didn’t even realise he was starting to disappear. And this was saying something, since Louis was usually hyperaware when he was in public.

It wasn’t fair to Harry, it wasn’t fair at all; Louis had started to feel too much for him, and he wasn’t comfortable with people having romantic attraction towards him, and since they’d became friends, Louis should tell him to let Harry have total control on the situation, and let him decide accordingly.

After all, he wasn’t a bumbling 15 year old anymore, he had to do what he had to do.

 

***

 

Talking himself into telling Harry was more difficult than ever; not only he’d found a precious help in the laboratory, but he’d found a precious friend, whatever his feelings were towards him. The thought of Harry not wanting to see Louis after if things went badly was breaking him slowly.

He had decided to open only half-day on a Friday a couple of week after the pub outing, and he’d invited Harry over to him for a tea. Harry had been in his house only once and for five minutes, because Louis forgot his paycheque on the kitchen table.

It wasn’t much, and he knew it. It had a small bedroom with a smaller bathroom inside, and the kitchen was one with the entryway and living room. It was tiny, but Louis honestly never felt the need to have something bigger. He felt better, knowing he could talk to Harry and spill everything wrapped up in his polar fleece blanket. If everything went to shit, he could always just lie there for a bit without having to do anything.

He led Harry up the stairs that went into his flat, and opened the door, trying to control his nervousness; his hands were trembling a bit, but he was overall really corporeal, so he counted that as a win. “Do you want a bit of tea, maybe?”

“Yes, thank you,” Harry nodded, looking around. He seemed calm, but the official reason was just that since the shop closed half-day, they could just hang out a bit and Louis could make Harry try his new brand of Assam, because that’s what friends do. Right?

With how much his hands were trembling, either Harry was as observant as a brick wall (as was his namesake, but at least he had Hermione close to him), or he didn’t want to make Louis more uncomfortable than he already was.

“Um, so… how are you?” His voice wasn’t trembling, at least not noticeably, and that was his second win of the day. He had to stay positive, positive.

Harry raised an eyebrow, as if they didn’t talk a bit when Louis arrived in the laboratory – that morning Harry had done the breakfast stuff, and Louis was actually feeling well-rested.

“I’m… okay. Your house is nice,” he smiled, examining the prints hung up the wall; there were a couple of Igor Morski that all could be called bar _nice_. “Love the décor.”

Louis snorted. “That’s my sister, whenever she comes she brings weird stuff with her, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Harry shrugged, scratching his chin. “At least she’s consistent. My sister keeps gifting me all these random knickknacks, I don’t know what to do with them anymore.”

Louis snorted, putting, in order, milk and the already brewed tea in the mugs. At Harry’s face, he shook his head. “No bloody tiffy will be allowed in this house, mind you.”

“At least you didn’t put the teabag in the lukewarm watered down milk…” Harry grumbled, taking his tea and following Louis to the couch.

So, it was time to talk, apparently. Harry was humming to himself, mostly unaware of Louis’ inner turmoil, and when Louis started to talk he jumped a bit, surprised, and then settled to listen.

“Okay, we really, _really_ need to talk, because I’m not being really fair to you since I’ve met you, and I like to think I’m a much more mature person than that.” Harry opened his mouth, probably to interject with a reassurance, but Louis shook his head and lifted his hand to stop him. He had to get it all out in one sitting, or it wouldn’t have come out at all. “I don’t really know where to begin and how to get over with this, because talking about my emotions has always been a burden, and…” He paused, nodded to himself. “And that’s actually the root of the problem. I’m not… I’m not good at dealing with emotions. I’m emotionally constipated, kind of? So when I… feel too much I…” He stopped, not knowing how to say it, and looked down at his hands.

That were absolutely and unmistakably translucent. He didn’t even risk a peep towards Harry, just swallowed and put his hand not holding the mug out in the open. It was trembling so much now. “When I feel too much _this_ happens, and it doesn’t matter which kind of emotion, I just start to… well, _disappear_. And it’s the reason I have always lived basically as a hermit in the laboratory… till now.”

One was down, he still had to say the other thing.

“Is it all?” Harry took his hand, and while Louis still couldn’t make himself look up, he relishes a bit in that touch, reverent and delicate like a feather. His heart was hurting at the thought that he couldn’t have that anymore after he was done, but he had to do it.

“There is another thing, actually.” Harry just hummed in response, his fingers tracing patterns on Louis’ wrist, and Louis wanted to kiss him so much he could barely breathe. “I know you’re akoiromantic and all, and that’s why I’m telling you, so you can make an informed decision. I–” he swallowed around nothing, and bit down on his lower lip in an attempt to focus. “I like you. A lot. And not in a ‘look he’s cute’ kind of way. I like you in a ‘I want to settle down’ kind of way. And I know akoiros are repulsed by that so…” He trailed off, suddenly unsure how he could finish the sentence. The air was immobile, his statement still between them; even Harry’s fingers stilled on his wrist.

“Wait, you think I’m romance-repulsed?” Harry’s tone was confused, and it was enough to make Louis look at him: his eyebrows were furrowed and his lips drawn in a pout, in an adorable expression of bewilderment.

Louis shrugged, feeling suddenly really small. Harry still hadn’t stopped touching his wrist. “Well, that’s what the definition of akoiromanticism says?”

Harry’s fingers twitched on his wrist, and the corners of his mouth came up in a little smile. “Akoiros don’t feel the need for romance, don’t desire it, but whether an akoiro is romance-repulsed or not, that’s up to them. It’s the person who can or cannot be romance-repulsed. I mean,” he bit his lip, and resumed his ministrations on Louis’ wrist, “I’m not a grand romantic gestures person, to be clear. Serenades under the moon just make me chuckle awkwardly and random flowers are so not a thing. And… I mean, in general I do have some romantic boundaries, but I’m definitely not romance-repulsed. Just like asexual people can be sex-repulsed or not.”

Suddenly, Louis, as a non sex-repulsed asexual, felt really stupid. He felt his cheeks heat up in a blush, and he knew, even without looking at himself, he knew that he was disappearing more and more. Fuck, _of course_ there was no inherent repulsion, when he thought about it, it was only logical. “I—” He stopped, cleared his throat awkwardly to prevent his voice from cracking. “I’m so fucking stupid?” he ventured, still trembling a bit.

Harry, bless him, just giggled a bit and shook his head. “If it helps, I’m flattered that your first thought was not to force your romantic attraction on me. It means a lot, you know.” He placed his tea on the coffee table in front of the couch, and then picked up Louis’ mug too. “Can I kiss you now?”

Louis worried his lower lip between his teeth, and then nodded, without looking Harry in the eyes. Harry put his hand on Louis’ cheek, and kept tracing shapes with his other hand on Louis’ wrist. Louis felt like he was about to explode, his heart beating so fast and hard he was sure Harry could feel it.

Harry shook his head, and then nudged him gently with his hand, to make Louis look at him. He wore a big smile, his dimples visible. “I can’t really kiss you if I don’t know where your mouth is, though.”

Louis swore under his breath and looked at his hands. He managed to disappear completely, not even a shadow coming out if his sleeves. “Are you creeped out?”

He saw Harry’s hair moving left and right on his peripheral vision. “No, it’s just… You’re beautiful, and you don’t seem to realise it. The beauty of people is in their emotions, in the fact that their eyes aren’t empty and their mouths aren’t straight lines. Beauty is in the flushed cheeks and in full belly laughs, and you’re beautiful, I’ve seen it.”

Louis shook his head, disbelieving. “I mean, thanks but I’m really not.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “ _Louis_. Do you even have a mirror?”

“Is this rhetorical? I have one in my bedroom but—” Louis couldn’t finish the sentence before Harry whisked him away, almost carrying him towards his bedroom. “Oh god, what if my room wasn’t in the right state for you to see it?”

Harry only rolled his eyes and dragged him in front of his mirror. “You have to see yourself, Lou.”

“If you didn’t notice, that’s _exactly the problem_.” Louis’ voice went up for the last part of the sentence, and even if he was slowly starting to reappear, he knew it was short-lived.

Harry sighed. “No, Lou, you…” He paused, frustrated with himself. “I know what it means to hide, you know? I _get_ it. I hid for a long time, under a name that wasn’t mine, and a body that made me feel sick. I hid and couldn’t see myself, covered all the mirrors in my house. And. And now I’m so much better.”

They were still, looking at each other through the mirror – Harry probably looking at that little of Louis he could see – then Harry perked up. “Can I do something? I promise it’s not sexual at all.”

Louis nodded, and Harry took off his shirt, showing off a fairly toned chest with a couple of tattoos here and there, and the pinkish outline of the top surgery scars. They were beautiful, and Harry wore them like battle scars, like he was proud of them. “You’re beautiful,” was all he could say without his voice breaking.

Harry smiled down at him. “You too, now.”

Louis shook his head, laughed awkwardly under Harry’s burning gaze, then took his top off, wondering if Harry could see something, or if he was too transparent to see anything. “There. What now?”

Harry smiled, and then he shucked off his shoes, and took off his pants. Louis’ mouth dropped open. “Harry…”

Harry was in a pair of grey boxer briefs with hearts printed on them. “I want to reiterate that this is very much not sexual.”

Louis snorted, a bit of the tension on his shoulders going away. He mirrored Harry and was left in his own pair of boxer briefs. “Um.”

Harry smiled. “Can I touch you?”

Louis’ mouth twitched. “Are those touches PG?”

“Promise.” Harry put his hand over Louis’ heart, and now he could really hear it beating, after all. Louis mirrored him, caressed Harry’s scar a bit before stilling his hand, and felt a beat that equalled his own. He tried to control his breathing, but there was no use, he was too overwhelmed with emotions.

Still smiling, Harry made him turn towards the mirror, keeping his hand on Louis’ heart. Louis looked at himself, barely visible and with a flush going down to his chest. He looked at his eyes, transparent and showing Harry behind him but so, so luminous, and he felt so pretty like never before.

Harry was there, behind him, holding him lovingly. He had his chin on Louis’ shoulder, and was watching him with admiration. “You’re so beautiful Lou, inside and out. So beautiful. You have nothing to hide. You’re a gift to the world.”

Louis, if possible, blushed even more and deflected his gaze from the mirror. He turned in Harry’s embrace, and took Harry’s head between his hands. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry murmured, and then his lips were on Louis’, and they were so soft and warm, and it was probably the best kiss of Louis’ life. It was like a punch on his stomach, and it was like flying home after ten months of being away.

He detached himself slowly, and rested his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. “I like you so much.”

Harry took his hands, smiling knowingly, and put them under Louis’ nose. “Me too, petal.”

Louis watched his hand, dumbfounded. His heart was racing, his stomach swirling, and he was so overcome with emotions that he shouldn’t have been there. And yet there he was, completely visible, under Harry’s loving gaze. A smile blossomed on his face, unattended, and he launched himself at Harry to kiss him again, and again, and again.

There were still things they needed to talk to, like how much Harry was comfortable with romantic things, and how much Louis himself was comfortable with physical contact for the time being. But right in that moment, all was well.

**Author's Note:**

> You can come and say hi on [tumblr](http://cosenoditea.tumblr.com), and or/reblog [this post](http://cosenoditea.tumblr.com/post/136843904131/setteveli-by-stria-on-ao3-pairing-harry) for the fic, that would made me very happy! :D  
> Every error you might find here is because of my ESL self and not Grace's doing; tell me if there's any, or if you want me to add some tag!
> 
> The prompt was " _Louis is asexual. He gets dumped by his significant other (some irrelevant original character) because he thought he could handle being in a relationship with an ace person, but realizes he can't._  
>  After dealing with the breakup, Louis meets (your choice - Harry, Liam or Zayn), who is lithromantic.  
> The two of them start dating, and their relationship works out, happily ever after and all that.
> 
>  
> 
> I like a lot of fluff, so the more fluff, the better!
> 
>  
> 
> I took the liberty to take the Ziall from the other prompt you gave me, because they're my faves :D


End file.
